


Λεοντίδαι, Leontídai

by HaughtPocket



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Character Study, F/F, I hesitate to use the word smut, Introspective Waverly Earp, but there is sex, canon adjacent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 05:46:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16278896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaughtPocket/pseuds/HaughtPocket
Summary: Λεοντίδαι, Leontídai| Leonids: The brightest and most impressive meteor showertogether, they are power in its most pure, intimate form





	Λεοντίδαι, Leontídai

**Author's Note:**

> Heya folks. I'm super nervous about this. Be gentle......
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you SO much to tigerlo for helping me out with this & the _ever_ wonderful beta Smurf for helping me get the proper grammar  & still maintain the sound/style I wanted.
> 
>  
> 
> (still working on moonshine, it's been tough lately)

  


**~**

 

 

Nicole Haught is a beautiful juxtaposition of power and gentleness.

 

Or, maybe, she’s powerful in the way that power was truly meant to be: caring, listening, steady.

 

Waverly knows _exactly_ why Nedley picked Nicole as his successor for Sheriff. Nicole has said she never saw it coming, but to Waverly, it makes perfect sense.

 

She’s just and moral and kind, and Waverly admires and cherishes every single one of these qualities. She wishes she could be more like Nicole, so firm in her values, not easily shaken.

 

But where Nicole stands firm, Waverly bends, and they move in a jigsaw pattern way, creating an intricate design no puzzle master ever could.

 

 

**~**

 

 

Nicole tells Waverly that she loves her spirit. That it’s the most selfless, caring spirit she’s ever known.

 

Waverly tells her that it’s a good place to hide - behind a smile and wave. No one sees the ocean of sadness behind a big, bright smile.

 

But Nicole takes her by the hands. And she tells Waverly that a Sheriff’s office is a good place for someone like _her_ to hide - someone constantly surviving and hating herself for it a bit more each time.

 

Waverly resists the urge to slap her hands over Nicole’s mouth. “Don’t. Please.”

 

_Don’t talk about that…_

 

“Wynonna’s not the only one fighting demons.” Their foreheads press together, and Nicole holds onto Waverly’s wrist. Sometimes Waverly forgets, for all of Nicole’s strength, she has just as much heartache and trouble as anyone else.

 

And a heaviness bears down on Waverly’s chest, one she can’t explain, one that makes it a little difficult to breathe. But she holds back tears as she listens to Nicole, holds her while she tells Waverly of her demons.

 

Later, Nicole does the same for Waverly, after Jolene is gone. The weight on her chest is much lighter and she thinks she knows what it was, maybe how to handle that a little better now, should she feel it again.

 

 

**~**

 

 

In the middle of every demon excursion, apocalypse, witch hunt -- amidst the chaos of everyday life in Purgatory -- their bedroom is their sanctuary.

 

The world threatens to overtake and steal one away from the other, but in the confines of these four walls, nothing else exists. Not even their false pretenses, responsibilities that weigh strenuous on their shoulders during the day. Here, they don’t have to _be_ anyone else, either. Not a savior, or a sister, or a Sheriff, or a survivor. Here, they can just be them.

 

Just Waverly. Nicole.

 

They exist together. To _be_ together. It’s felt that way ever since Waverly first felt Nicole’s lips against her own. As if each was built with the other in mind. Whether it’s collapsing into bed after a long day, or spending the night entangled with each other, panting and sweating and falling, over and over and _over_.

 

Nicole’s power was all gentle at first. All comfort, reassurance, steady guidance as Waverly learned more and more.

 

But as Waverly learned, Nicole’s power showed its varied sides. At Waverly’s request, only ever at her request, it became more firm.

 

“Nicole…” Waverly says, low and quiet against Nicole’s neck, the skin flushed and warm. A heated couch makeout session has them both on edge.

 

Nicole moans beneath her, and Waverly makes a desperate sound; one that she knows Nicole will recognize.

 

_Take me,_ the sound says _. Don’t be soft._

 

And then Nicole grips _tight,_ and the air leaves Waverly’s lungs. Not so gentle. Powerful - but perfectly so.

 

Waverly is carried up the stairs, and there’s a look in Nicole’s eyes. They one she gets when she wants to go _slow_. She sets Waverly down again. Her hand snakes around Waverly’s back and pulls her close, and there’s a strength to the grip of Nicole’s fingers that provokes the flickering heat.

 

Then Nicole draws seemingly aimless patterns with her fingers, until the patterns begin to shift Waverly’s shirt, cinching it up ever so slowly, and they brush across bare skin.

 

The heat smolders, and Waverly pulls Nicole down by her neck, kissing her hotly.

 

Hands sweep the plains of her stomach, in no rush; her muscles jump, thumbs sweep beneath her breasts, and she arches forward into Nicole’s touch. More, _more_ , she needs.

 

A kiss descends upon her neck as Nicole acquiesces to the silent, desperate request.

 

Lips and tongue are warm on her neck, her collarbone, her jaw, and hands are practiced, nimble, slipping behind, unhooking clasps. Suddenly, Waverly has been divested of her shirt and bra and barely even taken note because Nicole is so goddamn _good_.

 

She breathes heavily as she stands back a bit, trying to regain just a small amount of mental clarity. Enough to rid Nicole of _her_ clothing, at least.

 

“This,” she mutters, pulling at Nicole’s sweater. Nicole lifts her arms as Waverly moves the sweater up in one swift motion.

 

Arms pull her close again, lips on hers. Even more heat emanates, the flame is fully ignited, and Waverly molds to Nicole’s form. She reaches for the clasps of Nicole’s bra, blindly unhooking it. Nicole smiles against her, a small chuckle.

 

Waverly _loves_ going first. Taking control, watching Nicole come undone beneath her. She loves giving to Nicole, watching all of the composure of the day utterly _melt_ at her fingertips.

 

Because she knows that only _she_ can do that.

 

Nicole is well known and beloved in all of Purgatory; almost everyone knows her in some manner. She’s made it a priority to become acquainted with the citizens of the little town, and Waverly admires her so deeply for it.

 

Nicole makes herself available to so many people, but _all_ of her -- her heart and mind and body and soul -- this is for Waverly. Her purest, most intimate form, wracked with pleasure and shouting in ecstasy, this belongs to Waverly _only_.

 

Such a beautiful gift, Waverly thinks, as she turns Nicole’s hands over, pressing kisses to her fingers, knuckles, palm.

 

She loves going first, but Waverly loves to _give_ herself first, too.

 

Because just as Nicole is Waverly’s, Waverly is completely and wholly Nicole’s.

 

She didn’t know it was possible, before Nicole, to give all of herself so fully to another person. To offer herself and be received in such a way that it felt like _they_ were being given a gift. That’s how she feels every time Nicole takes her.

 

Like Waverly herself is a _gift_.

 

Nicole makes her feel like her body is the most sacred thing, like her heart is an altar and she _worships_ at it.

 

So when Waverly gives _herself_ , Nicole gives in return.

 

_Oh_ , what a beautiful exchange, this communion between them. This marrying of two bodies. Waverly often thinks of soulmates, the two souls who resided in one body. She wonders if this is what it was like. Harmony, synchronization, _power_.

 

Waverly pulls away, sits on the bed, backing toward the pillows. She crooks her finger, and Nicole climbs over her, letting her body press flush against Waverly’s.

 

Waverly hums at the feeling of Nicole’s skin on hers. There’s nothing in the world like it. The fire burns hotter, and Waverly can feel herself growing more and more ready by the moment.

 

“Okay?” Nicole whispers between them and Waverly’s heart jumps.

 

“Yes, perfect,” Waverly says in quick reply, hushed, hungry.

 

Nicole dances a slow dance. She kisses her long and unhurried, her hand runs up and down Waverly’s bare side for what seems like tortuous hours, until at _last,_ it finds purchase on her breast. Waverly’s breathing _halts_.

 

Time is a distant construct when Nicole’s hands do these things. Oh, god, and then her _mouth_. Waverly thinks maybe time ceases to exist altogether, that Nicole really _is_ that powerful.

 

_Exquisite, graceful power..._

 

And finally, _finally_ , her pants come off and Nicole touches her; _god,_ does she touch her.

 

She slides over Waverly’s waiting need with such ease, and Waverly knows that one swift stroke would do the trick, but Nicole somehow makes it last. She draws it out, and Waverly feels like gravity has lost its power as well.

 

Dear god, the things Nicole can do.

 

As soon as she’s inside of her, Waverly shouts, but Nicole’s lips are right there, and they’re breathing together. Hot against each other’s mouths, as if their lungs work together to breathe in the moment.

 

_Two souls. One body._

 

Waverly pants, and Nicole seems to catch every single one. And it’s like they’re fuel for this fire that builds and builds. Because it makes Waverly hotter and Nicole work harder.

 

Every law of physics is null and void.

 

Waverly floats among stars that burn so bright she has to squeeze her eyes shut, she’s flying out so far, but Nicole is there, so she _holds_ ; she grasps tighter as the light takes over her sight, distant whispering in her ears.

 

“ _I got you, baby…_ ”

 

She floats back down. Stars fade from immediate sight, but they’re imprinted on her eyelids. Like a photo flash minutes after it goes off - a powerful light doesn’t recede so quickly.

 

Nicole’s weight on top of her reminds Waverly of where she is. She collapses against the mattress, pulling Nicole with her. She thinks of meteor showers, falling bits of sky that burn on descent.

 

Heavy breaths fill the silence that follows as they both recuperate. Nicole lifts herself to an elbow after a few moments, sweeping the mussed up hair from Waverly’s face.

 

“Okay? I think you left for a second.” She draws Waverly’s hand from around her shoulder to her lips, tenderly kissing her fingers, pressing her cheek against Waverly’s palm.

 

“Mhm. You took me to space,” Waverly replies, her voice cracked and groggy from euphoria.

 

Nicole laughs. Her forehead falls to Waverly’s chest. “Does that make you an astronaut?” A kiss in the valley between her breasts.

 

Waverly winds her fingers through Nicole’s hair, scratching, tugging gently. “I guess it does.”

 

They’re quiet for a moment, the fire glowing in the silence between them now. Waverly knows she’s the only one who sees Nicole in this state of peace. She smiles, a plan already formulating in her mind. _It’s my turn_ , she thinks. She rolls and pushes Nicole on her back.

 

Waverly sweeps her long hair to one side, entranced and breathless at the vision beneath her. It never dims or grows ordinary. Leaning down, she whispers into the rekindling flame, “I think that makes you the stars.”

 

**  
  
~**

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I spell the word theater _theatre_. Does that make me a pretentious snob...?
> 
>  
> 
> Oh also, is it smut? I honestly don't know.


End file.
